


Every Colour Begins from White of Winter

by Filigranka



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Arguing, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, Class Differences, F/M, Leia Is Not Nice, Leia hopes it's temporary ;), Leia showing her fondness in very OT Leia way, Secret Relationship, The First Order Wins (Star Wars), ideological differences, they're sooo baffled by their bursts of being nice to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: The date for the brand new Unity Holiday, the main holiday for the First Order’s galaxy, was set two weeks after the anniversary of the Hosnian Cataclysm. Leia supposed it was considerate of them.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Leia Organa
Comments: 13
Kudos: 30
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	Every Colour Begins from White of Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gamebird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamebird/gifts).



The date for the brand new Unity Holiday, the main holiday for the First Order’s galaxy, was set two weeks after the anniversary of the Hosnian Cataclysm. Leia supposed it was considerate of them. Allowing citizens time to remember their dead and mourn, dividing the time for tears and laughter. Perhaps they just realised pushing the galaxy further would end with more resistance.

All systems and ships were forced to celebrate. Chandrila wasn’t an exception. The whole weekend was full of marches, music, open-air opera and holonet dramas. And, of course, the most important point: the fireworks.

“The street” joked, in its typical way, that considering Hux was the Order’s official envoy on Chandrila, they would be lucky if the whole stage and half of the capital didn’t end up blown up as well. Especially because every sane person saw his appointment there as a pretty unsubtle demotion. From killing stars to watching an old lady.

That said old lady was the mother of the Beloved Supreme Leader—the voice of the street had some things to say about Ben’s obvious inferiority issues—well, that only added insult to the injury.

Of course, it was also a slap to Leia’s face. To make the man responsible for Alderaan’s repetition her "guardian". Forcing her to bear his presence at least once or twice a week, on inspections barely veiled as courtesy visits, and the presence of the troopers, “ensuring her safety,” every day. To make her search through her house for bugs and know she wouldn’t be able to find all of them. To force her to constantly watch her words and actions and be suspicious of everybody, even former colleagues. There was no shortage of spies and double-agents, these days.

It was like the Imperial Senate once again, except worse. Leia would have preferred to die fighting, but Ben’s bold move of announcing his heritage had made it impossible. Nobody would have trusted her intentions any longer—and even if they had trusted them, they would have started to question whether she shouldn’t have given herself up _to her son_ , instead of “damning planets and centuries-old civilisations with her presence”—and not trusting her meant not trusting The Resistance.

She had to distance herself from the cause to not drag it down. In a way, she’d said in her last speech to her soldiers—for a time, she’d tried to convince herself, for a time—it had been finally her long-awaiting retirement. And she’d earned it, right?

It had one of the hardest choices in her life. Of course she’d earned it, deserved it for all the mistakes she’d done. With Ben. In politics. In the _war_ , for if she hadn’t been so concerned with Han and her pregnancy, if she’d been on Jakku, if she’d asked about Sloane’s disappearance more, if she’d stopped those ships…

The Force was just, so because of all those mistakes here she was, heading to the celebratory fireworks, escorted by dozens of stormtroopers. Invited (“Your presence in our embassy, Your Highness, will convey the message about peace and unity better than thousands of holonet speeches; and for me, personally, it’ll be a pleasure”). Forced (“If you felt unwell—hypothetically, of course—on such an important holiday, I’d have to suspect a poison or biological weapon, the assassination attempt; you’re the Leader’s family, so I’d have to start an investigation and bring the culprits... at least half a dozen, I assume... to justice”).

She was also curious, deep down. And left with no choice.

She tried to go out in a nightgown. The Stormtrooper captain, after a short holo-chat with Hux—who seemed amused—informed her that dressing however she wanted was her royal prerogative, but he, as an officer of the Order, had to protect the image of the Beloved Supreme Leader’s mother, and therefore the soldiers were going to shoot anyone who would have the misfortune of so much as glancing at her during this short walk.

Leia was quite sure Hux wouldn’t actually see it through, if only out of fear of riots. But she was also pretty sure he’d be willing to shoot a person or two and arrest the whole neighbourhood, just to dangle it over her head in discussion or in bed—and she wasn’t going to let anyone die for her little rebellion. In holonet transmissions, they would digitally slap some pretty costume on her either way.

So when he welcomed her at the palace door, she was in a long, navy blue dress and a bloody red coat, fluttering in the wind. Her hair was braided in a traditional Alderaanian mourning fashion, but she could always claim it was because of Han. Stellaria’s glass rings and hairpins—this dark blue kind was called “Coruscant’s night” on some planets—glimmered in the well-lit garden. All very proper, especially her dark red, almost black, necklace, made from Hosnian rubies.

Hux’s welcome speech was predictably meaningless—but a little less terrible, rhetorics-wise than the one before the Hosnian massacre. He must have been taking some lessons. Or perhaps it was time spent on one of the Core’s most refined planets, not aboard war-ships.

The holonet camera-drones were flying around them, small and buzzing like insects. Leia smiled the carefully neutral and obviously fake smile of a diplomat. AI still wasn’t perfect when it comes to reading emotions. Perhaps the holonet software would miss the forced nature of her grimace and transmit it unchanged.

She talked with other guests a little, mostly old friends, forced to attend the event, like her. The subjects were painfully boring: the weather, cuisine, complements about fashion. Nobody sane would dare to make even the slightest allusion to _anything_. And apparently they all, Leia and her friends, had become much saner, or simply less brave, through the years.

Other guests tried to not notice her. Some of her past friend did so, too. She was used to it by now. It didn’t pain her—nothing did, these days.

Just as she was exchanging trite remarks about the current summer with Kyp Dirr, envoy from Naboo, Palpatine's sacred birth planet, and therefore a relatively untouchable person, Hux took her arm. Without asking. It took a lot of Leia’s willpower not to shove him off. They were in public, for stars’ sake. He should be more careful, it was her reputation, but his _head_ on the line.

‘Pardon me, ambassador.’ His smile was all teeth. ‘I’m going to steal Her Highness for the show.’

Shaking her head and murmuring “oh, no-es, not at all-s, I don’t mind-s”, Kyp shot Leia a sheepish glance. 

Hux led Leia to the stairs, whispering: 

‘Hosnian rubies. I’ll have to tell them to blur your jewellery a little in close-ups.’ His warm breath tingled her scalp and the tip of her ear. ‘They’re the most expensive jewels of the galaxy, nowadays. I can’t help but wonder how many veterans, orphans and poor you could feed if you ever sell your wardrobe.’

‘Drones,’ she hissed; etiquette-wise he was getting a little too close.

‘They’re far enough.’ She felt him straightening nonetheless. ‘We’ll have more privacy upstairs. I want you to have the best view to the fireworks. I have a surprise.’

Leia barely managed not to stumble. Somebody’d gotten caught, she thought. A surprise must mean an execution or a private interrogation and torture. Scoring one over her. Getting the chance to hear her pleading. Something like that.

‘As for your jewellery, it’s not that I complain.’ If Hux noticed her distress, he ignored it. ‘The rubies complement your skin tone,’ for a second he sounded proud, like a kid showing off a freshly learnt trick. ‘And if you—any of you—had tried to actually share your wealth, expanding our army would have been much harder.’

‘You mean: stealing kids.’

‘Would it be better for them to die from hunger? Waste their days in the galactic trashcan, barely literate, if literate at all, dying before forty from sickness or in a bar fight? Their parents knew what kind of lives they’d have, Princess, a lot better than you do. They made their decision. I’m not sure you, with your dresses, jewels and libraries, are in a position to judge them.’

‘I don’t judge them.’ This almost wasn’t a lie. ‘I judge you.’

‘A rhetorical trick, no factual difference.’ He let her go first through the door of the balcony. Leia ignored the chair standing there and leaned on the railing, let her gaze wander across the sky. It was starless tonight, the light pollution level too high because of the festival. ‘Well, I judge you right back, you and your rubies, and your political career, so useless that you didn’t even manage to pass the law about special pensions for your own Rebel veterans. We at least give food and shelter to our troopers.’

‘And send them to kill and be killed.’

‘Your soldiers were often younger. I’ve never sent anyone below age to action, Princess, but check the age of your rebel biggest heroes. Intelligence operatives. When they were sent to the fight first, how old had they been?’

Too young. The press had grilled her and Mon about it even in the days of the New Republic and now, with the Order in power, the “hidden truth! huge scandal! war crimes! uncovered!” articles were coming out almost every day, just like the articles about corruption among the New Republic’s politicians.

They weren’t all lies. But one could use the truth for manipulation and propaganda just as well. Leia fixed her gaze on the sky, veiled in orange clouds.

‘I gave them choice. The Republic gave choice to everyone. You don’t leave anyone any.’

‘Choice is an illusion when you’re dying from starvation. Billions in the Rims never had any choice... Unless we agree Tarkin gave you—’

‘He _lost_.’ Now, that should made Hux leave the subject.

She knew better than to show distress over the mention of Tarkin. She relaxed her body instead, leaned into Hux’s touch, very consciously.

He huffed with laughter. Kissed the top of her head. Let his hands wander along her spine and ribs. Pleasant, if one’d stopped thinking. If one had been pathetic enough to forget.

Leia would never and so she recalled all her friends, allies, rivals and acquaintances who died in the Hosnian blaze, while nesting herself against Hux chest. She might be damned, she might be damned from the moment she’d uttered “Dantooine” and watched her world die, but she would be damned with her eyes wide open, looking at her sentence coolly.

Tenderness disarmed Hux. In a twisted way, he seemed to like taking care of living things just as much as he liked to crush and hurt them. Leia wasn’t even sure if Hux saw the difference between these two, if they were not, for him, just desire to control. His allies by the space carrot, his enemies by the barbed stick. If they didn’t fear and obey him, then let them burn, slowly, the full weight of their mistakes stoning them.

But if they loved him—if they showed him the slightest bit of love or safety, or praise, or anything, really, the smallest, driest crumb—then let the world burn for them.

Or at least so Leia suspected, because, as far as she knew, she was the only person in the second category and her being also a part of the first made Hux torn in a way different from what she’d sensed in her son, torn not between the vortex of emotions and personal feelings, but personal feelings and the Order. His ideals.

Deep in her heart Leia (damned with her eyes wide open, damned with light in her gaze bright enough to start fires, damned with her head still high and chin raised proudly…) admitted she understood these doubts better than she could ever understand Ben.

Only the sense of grandeur was the same. But this, perhaps, she could admit to understand, too.

Hux’s mouth touched the side of her neck. His hair tingled her just beneath her ear. So, so gentle, so careful, even though the speaker on the stage before them was just singing praises of the Order and thanking fate for its “fortunate victory” and the “glorious defeat of the anarchy and bandits groups of dissent”.

Let her burn for her mistakes and let the world burn for her. She hadn’t asked for the second. Not yet. There were nights when she considered it, though.

‘Drones,’ she said aloud, keeping her voice monotone.

They were filming the fest, the crowds, the stage and of course the palace from the air, and she was sure even from the distance Hux’s leg between her thighs would be noticeable if somebody blew the film up enough. And somebody would, even retired and half-exiled they were too high-profile targets to hope the galaxy would forget.

‘I can always shoot them, if they come too close.’

‘You’d miss.’ Leia’s voice was level. She might try mockery, but Hux would see her showing emotions of any kind as his victory. Leia needed to save her strength and tricks for that surprise of his. ‘And they’d know we were trying to hide something, they’d check the memory and the servers…’

‘You have so little faith in my abilities,’ Hux, on the other hand, was drawling literally every syllable. ‘Would you prefer if I caressed you in the box, in front of those useless cowards?’ And stars, the idea, the image, the phantom sensation—his fingers beneath her dress, moving up her thighs, sliding into her, his thumb circling her clit, the material of her underwear rubbing against it gently…—shouldn’t have made her muscles clench almost painfully, shouldn’t have made her body suddenly yearn. ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t notice. They’re too afraid.’

The box was meant for the most prestigious guests, Chandrila’s officials and envoys from other planets—only the important ones, the rest had to squeeze on the floors or in the gardens. By all means, Leia and Hux should be there as well, not on this small balcony. Until now, she’d thought they would go there in a moment, after Hux’s surprise and gloating.

If they weren’t going to join the envoys in the box, the guests would be afraid, indeed. Terrified out of their minds, to be precise. Hux wouldn’t kill—or let others kill—himself or his Supreme Leader’s mother and so, if he chose to keep them both away from the box...

‘They’re going to think you want to blow them up.’

‘Me?’

‘Some convenient terrorists.’

‘A cell of the Resistance,’ he corrected, almost gently. ‘But you’re right. They’re going to think I know something and will write them off as a convenient sacrifice.’

Leia leaned over the railing. Hux’s grip tightened. It could be sweet in different circumstances. As they were, he was probably concerned about her becoming a martyr through suicide—and Ren’s reaction.

The box was visible from there, but its guests couldn’t see Leia or Hux. Of course. Why had she even bothered checking?

‘You took us here just to make them nervous and watch them squirm.’

‘Power and fear turn me on,’ it was stated so matter-of-factly Leia felt torn between a shiver and a laughter. ‘Perhaps you still don’t know how much.’

Now, definitely a shiver. A well-hidden one; allowing Hux to taste your blood was a spectacularly bad idea.

‘So you need to—what? See their terrified faces? Erectile dysfunction at your age? Poor thing. It’s all because of the stress. I’m sure the kitchen could come up with a less complicated aphrodisiac...’

Pretty silly of her, considering she felt his half-hard cock rubbing on her thigh. But it was difficult to stop herself.

‘It’s not complicated, for me.’ She felt Hux shrugging. ‘And I thought you might enjoy the show.’

‘No, you didn’t. You thought their fear might distress me. Double your pleasure.’ His little schemes were crude, but so exhausting. ‘No wonder they’re nervous. The whole palace stinks of your excitement. They probably expect you to announce you’re going to blow up Coruscant.’

Hux laughed. ‘You despise them as much as I do, Princess. You _will_ enjoy their fear. You’ll just lie to yourself. Pretend it’s the Force, which let you know exactly how I’m feeling and what turns me on.’

This, unfortunately, was pretty close to the truth. The part about hating these useless, greedy cowards, whose years-long inertia and indifference had allowed the Order to rise and temporarily win, definitely was.

‘It’s not about what we feel, it’s about what we do.’

‘Or do not. Feeling all the compassion and rightful ire, of course.’

Another jab at the old Senate and her political career. She didn’t let him notice how painful they were. She doubted he’d discovered it himself, or else he’d bring it up more often. Now, he was just shooting in the dark, half hits, half misses.

‘Aren’t you afraid just speaking the word “compassion” might poison you?’

‘I have a lot of compassion. So much I couldn’t idly stand by and watch when all these planets, all these intelligent beings suffered and died in vain, just to feed the Core’s endless stomach. It was compassion which drove my actions, _actual_ compassion, not some petty sentimentality your Senate used to wash its hands with. Sentimentality stops being petty and become monstrous when you prefer to let thousands suffer than to hit one.’ This, he believed. ‘But I think you, unlike these glorified cowards, understand. You always chose actions, too, and I—’ next word drowned in the first shoot of the fireworks and the crowd lour cheer. ‘I mean, we, the Order, my teachers admire you for it. You never stayed your hand, never once hesitated, even when your own—’

She spun around, grabbed his collar, forcing his head down, and kissed him. He wanted understanding? Let’s give him something better, something to care and gloat about. Before he finished the sentence, reminded her of either Tarkin and Alderaan or all times the Resistance’s fighters were shooting straight into Ben’s ship, Ben’s head, Ben’s back.

Leia could feel Hux’s surprise in the clumsy way he responded, his lips shaped for words, not desire. But he deepened the kiss and held her so tight she lost her breath. She hoped she’d get dizzy, letting the physiological reaction mix all the stars and memories in her head, but he withdrew his lips too early.

‘Drones,’ he intoned, mockingly. ‘And the show. It’d be a pity if you miss the fireworks.’

She puffed—what fireworks could he and his lackeys, raised on hunger and war in the metal tins floating far outside the civilised galaxy, show her, the princess of the Core—but turned her head. Even on the clouded sky the colours and shapes were clearly visible. Green, violet, rose, circles, cascades of glitter, yellow, red, blue—

Light, yet clear blue. The colour she remembered from Alderaan. The one which had taken its specific shade from the mix of minerals found in the shells of the Alderaanian crustaceans and therefore couldn’t be recreated on any other world, on any other sky and had been lost forever with her “Dantooine” and Tarkin’s order.

And yet here it was. The surprise.

Hux, driven by hubris and hunger, was the man able to design apocalypses and miracles both. Kill stars and systems and then resurrect a colour, a toy, a laughter, a memory.

Perhaps he could resurrect more. Leia found she was afraid to ask, afraid to hear “yes” and having to choose yet again. At least for now.

For now, she watched the fireworks celebrating the Republic’s defeat and absolved herself of enjoying them. Her parents had celebrated the Empire’s rise every year. There had been fireworks then, of course. Clear, light blue, just the same. She’d stood along her parents, watching, her small hand in her mother’s one, her father dutifully behind, his big hands on her shoulders, hugging her.

Hux put his hands on her shoulders now, too. Leia could imagine that this warmth behind her came from her father, her husband, her brother. Her son. The memories—the fantasies—of carefreeness.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It must have been a lot of work to find the exact mix. So many companies tried only to fail.’

‘It was a nice challenge. Something to pass the time here, between all these banquets, exhibitions, trips and diplomatic visits.’ Hux did his best to sound bored, not excited, and in this, he failed. ‘And the Unknown Regions hold a lot of… interesting resources. Those companies just didn’t search far enough. I can tell you all the details later. You look so happy when you watch them, and you’re so pretty when you smile like this.’ This tone of someone reciting a lesson, again, all false. But the Force told Leia the sentiment behind it was sincere.

The fireworks decorated the sky, shot after shot. A weapon made into a toy. All wars and this enormous effort—suffering— of theirs, would be just a footnote in the history books one day, a subject of a play and the cause of audience’s entertainment. Beings were treating Alderaanian ruins as a tourist attraction already; at least some of the survivors made money on it.

Warmth in the universe came only after cold. But Leia had watched these clear blue lines on Alderaan’s night sky with her parents and while she’d lost it all, she had won later. She—the Republic, freedom—had gotten defeated recently, true, but here she was, watching the long-lost colours again. Her story wasn’t finished yet.

Hux’s arc was far from over, too. And Leia, leaning into his warm arms, imagining with dark amusement how terrified all these poor official guests in the box had to be of every firework’s blast, promised herself she wouldn’t let Luke be the one with the monopoly on redemption stories.

**Author's Note:**

> P. helped me with grammar - thank you!


End file.
